


know you like an inside joke

by silver (rosegolds)



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegolds/pseuds/silver
Summary: Minhyuk can count on one hand the things he treasures the most: home-cooked meals, educational science videos, and the warmth that Kihyun gives him.
Relationships: Lee Minhyuk/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	know you like an inside joke

**Author's Note:**

> i'm working on a longer fic atm but i think i need a break from it, so here's this in the meantime :) title from 'love language' by ariana grande.
> 
> mx's dorms are organized like this: mh/kh/ck in one dorm, sn/hw/jh in the other.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!! ♡

“Minhyuk-ah, I’m doing a Vlive.”

Minhyuk had assumed this much, hearing Kihyun use his on-camera voice — speaking a little louder and clearer than usual — when he’d answered the call. Kihyun’s round, makeup-free face almost takes up Minhyuk’s entire screen, and his cream jacket is nearly swallowing him up because it’s too big for him. The way Kihyun’s holding his phone would result in an unflattering angle for most, but for Kihyun, he just looks reminiscent of a steamed bun, and Minhyuk smiles at the sight.

“Monbebe told me to call you and ask what our Maltese is doing in the dorms,” Kihyun says in that precious voice of his, soft and crackling through the line.

Minhyuk holds his phone close to his face, so that just his eyes and the tops of his cheeks are in view on their video call. “I’m resting,” he says, voice hoarse from fatigue. He’s cocooned in his blankets, and has been in this position all day, his favourite thing to do on off-days. He’d even opened the window, despite the cold, wintery air blowing in, just to give himself an excuse to pile up on more blankets.

“What was that?” Kihyun asks, and the video shakes as he moves the phone around, presumably trying to give the fans the most optimal view of Minhyuk.

“I’m resting.”

“He says he’s resting today.”

“I don’t have any energy.”

“He says he doesn’t have any energy.”

Minhyuk pouts as Kihyun just parrots back everything he says to the audience, but it’s cute and Kihyun’s lips look pretty when he speaks, so Minhyuk supposes he’ll forgive it. “Hurry up and come home,” he says, a slight whine in his voice. “And make dinner.”

“Make dinner? We don’t have any ingredients at home,” Kihyun tells him. “There’s just a little bit of hangjeongsal left. That’s it. We have to order something.”

Minhyuk’s pout intensifies, lip jutting out further, though Kihyun can’t see it. “Delivery food doesn’t taste good now.”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk hears Kihyun agree absentmindedly, as he’s still waving his phone around, trying to get Minhyuk’s face in the phone screen in view of the camera. “Delivery food doesn’t taste good.”

Kihyun rambles for a little bit longer, half-reading comments, and half-talking to Minhyuk. Minhyuk smiles when he hears Kihyun’s musical laugh through the phone, reading a comment that calls Minhyuk a melted Maltese.

Kihyun hums as he hangs up, and ends the live a few minutes later. By the time Minhyuk thinks to check the Vlive app and click on the video, he’s met with a message that reads _Broadcast has ended._ Kihyun must be on his way back to the dorm soon then, and Minhyuk has a fluttery feeling in his chest. He hugs the blankets tighter around himself, and waits for Kihyun to come home.

The company building isn’t too far from their dorms, usually taking around forty minutes to reach home in traffic, less during the off-peak hours. But it has already been over an hour, and Kihyun still isn’t home yet. Minhyuk sneaks out of his bedroom to plop unceremoniously on the couch, still wrapped in his blanket. He feels restless, and a little lonely — Changkyun had gone to bed already.

At long last, the front door is cracking open, as Kihyun’s kicking it lightly with his foot. His hands are holding far too many grocery bags, like he’d been determined to only make one trip from the car to the dorm.

Minhyuk hops up off the couch, abandoning his blanket and instinctively reaching out to take the bags from Kihyun’s hands.

“What’s all this?”

“Food,” Kihyun says, closing the door behind him.

Minhyuk’s forehead creases, and he waddles into the kitchen to set the bags down on the counter. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Kihyun kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, which makes his puffy-steamed-bun appearance deflate significantly. “ _Yes_ , I did,” he says, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. “Pretty sure all we have in the fridge is like, half an apple and enough hangjeongsal to feed a small family of ants.”

“It’s so late, though,” Minhyuk tells him. “You should’ve left it for tomorrow.”

“You said you didn’t wanna order,” Kihyun says simply, coming up beside Minhyuk to start unpacking the bags, and that’s that, in the same way that the sky is blue.

As Kihyun cooks, Minhyuk follows him around like a puppy, doing the absolute most to make his presence known. He chatters about anything and everything, leans into Kihyun’s personal bubble to watch him stir a spoon in a pot, and rests his chin on Kihyun’s shoulder until Kihyun gives in and brings the spoon up to Minhyuk’s lips to taste. Minhyuk blows on the spoon twice before slurping it up. He licks his lips and hums contently.

With his chin still sitting comfortably on Kihyun’s shoulder, like it’s meant to fit there, Minhyuk says, “I think you’re the best chef around.”

“I’m not sure if that’s much of an achievement, if ‘around here’ is one of the conditions,” Kihyun says, resuming his stirring, wincing as the steam comes up and brushes against his face. “You mostly just supervise, and Changkyun is basically a pet.”

Minhyuk laughs. “Okay but you need supervision,” he says. “I’ve saved you from many potential fires.”

Kihyun pauses to look at Minhyuk, gaze soft and hard all at the same time. Minhyuk, who’s looking back with a grin on his face. “You have not,” Kihyun says. “If anything, you’ve increased the chances of fire.”

“How so?”

“For one, you’ll put just about anything in the microwave.”

“The chocolate thing was a one-time incident! And it came from a place of good intentions. I wanted to make my hot chocolate more chocolatey.”

“You have to melt chocolate on the _stove_ , Minhyuk. It’s called a double boiler.”

“Microwaves are supposed to be universal. How was I supposed to know it’d burn?”

“A quick Naver-search goes a long way.”

Minhyuk huffs. “I will accept this slander only because you’re feeding me.”

Kihyun’s lips are pressed together, face scrunched up slightly, and Minhyuk knows this expression like the back of his hand, like an inside joke — Kihyun’s trying to hide his smile, trying to hold back a laugh. Kihyun quickly looks back to the contents of the pot, which he has been stirring aimlessly for longer than necessary, but Minhyuk still catches the endeared glint in Kihyun’s eye in the last second.

The dorm is set up so that the kitchen and living room exist in one big open space. Kihyun pads back and forth in a lazy circle, bringing dishes from the kitchen to the little table they have situated in front of the couch in the living room.

Minhyuk sits at the table, with his knees folded up to his chest and back resting against the couch. He eyes the steam from the food intently, chopsticks clutched tightly in his hand, and as much as he wants to just devour the food like a ravenous animal, he waits for Kihyun to join him.

Kihyun’s got his head ducked into the refrigerator. “Do you want a Sprite?” he calls, voice echoing softly against the walls of the refrigerator.

“Yes, please.”

Once Kihyun’s finally sitting next to him, Minhyuk shovels the still-hot food into his mouth, sucking in air in attempts to keep his tongue from burning.

“Wait, wait,” Kihyun says, gently smacking Minhyuk’s chopstick-wielding hand as it’s making its way from the food to his mouth. “I have to take a picture first.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “Take a picture of your own. I’m hungry.”

Kihyun carefully arranges his plate — patting the rice to keep it in its neat little circle, positioning the fried egg tastefully in the centre — and quickly snaps a few photos to post on Instagram, alongside the picture of the ingredients he’d taken earlier. And because he’s just that proud of his creation, he decides to post about it on Fancafe, as well.

“I think I could open a restaurant,” Kihyun says, and he types exactly that into his Fancafe post. “I’m telling them you’re eating beside me.”

“Do you post about every mundane thing that goes on in your day?”

Kihyun huffs. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve done all day,” he whines, and it makes Minhyuk laugh.

The table is small, but certainly big enough for Kihyun, Minhyuk, and Changkyun to have meals together. But when it’s just the two of them, Kihyun and Minhyuk sit as though the only way to arrange themselves is beside each other, shoulders touching. Like they’re _that_ couple, who always sit on the same side of the booth at a restaurant, even when it’s unnecessary. But it _is_ necessary, and Minhyuk attributes it to the magnetic pull between them.

Kihyun watches with round doe eyes as Minhyuk continues eating, like he’s waiting for Minhyuk’s verdict. “So? How is it?”

“Everything tastes good when you make it,” Minhyuk says simply, hardly able to taste the food because of how hot it is. But really, he doesn’t need to — he knows it’s good, as Kihyun’s cooking always is, like a little piece of Kihyun’s heart is baked into it. “If we never got food delivered ever again, I would be very okay with that.”

Kihyun shakes his head. “Don’t just say things — you’re just saying that,” he says. The light in the dorm is dim, but Minhyuk can still discern the rosy blush colouring Kihyun’s cheeks. Shyness aside, he seems satisfied with the answer, because after that, Kihyun starts to dig into the food, too.

“I’m not!” Minhyuk insists, and a bit of food nearly flies out of his mouth. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth. “I’m not, really. It’s just — ah, how do I explain it. You know how our lives feel so different, yet so stagnant every day?”

Kihyun nods. “I like how Changkyun said it the other day — everyday is the same, but it’s like it goes through a randomizer first.”

“Exactly. And _this_ ,” Minhyuk gestures between the two of them, “is like I’m coming home to something. It feels like that. We don’t get a lot of that.”

Kihyun’s blush saturates. “How are you so good at saying things like that with a straight face?” he asks shyly. “To _me_ , of all people.”

Minhyuk pauses in thought for a moment. “The trick is saying it before my brain can catch up with me, I think. Otherwise, I’ll get too embarrassed.”

Kihyun laughs that familiar musical laugh, like he hadn’t expected Minhyuk to take the question so seriously. He does it softly, like he’s mindful not to wake Changkyun up, who’s fast asleep in the other room.

“So, what’d you do while I was gone?” Kihyun asks, mouth stuffed with food. “Aside from waiting for me to come home.”

Minhyuk gives him a look, but it doesn’t have the effect he’s going for, because Kihyun’s playful tone makes his smile sneak up on him. “I watched science videos on Youtube.”

“I should’ve known.”

“Wanna know what I learned?”

“Tell me.”

Minhyuk smiles, all giddy and excited, like he’s up next for show and tell. “Okay, so. I was watching a video about the Voyager Golden Record — it’s a collection of images and recordings. It’s meant to represent humanity. And they sent it off with the Voyager spacecraft — Voyager II.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They sent it off into the void, hoping that aliens find it, I guess? So that they’ll know what we’re like.”

Kihyun narrows his eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in aliens.”

“I don’t, _but_ ,” Minhyuk says. “Imagine if someone out there _did_ find it.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in a ‘someone out there.’”

Minhyuk smacks Kihyun on the shoulder lightly, and Kihyun giggles. “Not the point, Kihyun. It’s just that — humans are so cute, you know?” he says, gushing and sighing and gesticulating passionately. “Like, the kind of stuff they sent up there. They did a bunch of recordings in different languages. Wanna know what they said in Korean?”

“What’d they say?”

“Literally just _hello_. That’s it. But — I thought the Hokkien one was so cute. They asked, ‘have you eaten yet?’ and told the aliens to come visit us if they have time. That’s literally adorable. The Mandarin one was similar. I think it’s my new favourite thing that ever happened.”

“Ohhh,” Kihyun says, voice light and in awe. He quirks an eyebrow. “But the aliens wouldn’t even understand that.”

“It’s the _thought_ that counts, Kihyun. I just think it’s so sweet, they had the chance to say anything they wanted, and they chose that.”

Kihyun’s eyes soften, taking in Minhyuk’s exuberance. “You’re right,” he hums, a content little sound. “It is sweet.”

“But that’s not even the best part. They recorded a lot of weather-related sounds and animal sounds — including whales!” Minhyuk says, beaming and letting the words spill out of him with reckless abandon. “But the best part, really, is the human sounds they recorded. You know what they recorded? Human laughter, a heartbeat, footsteps. The sound of a _kiss_.”

Kihyun’s lips are parted in the shape of an ‘o,’ and he’s nodding along as Minhyuk lists off the different sounds and songs on the track-list of the Voyager Golden Record.

“I think it’s really special,” Minhyuk concludes. “That this is what we think represents us best. A heartbeat, a kiss.”

A heartbeat. Minhyuk once read somewhere that if two people look at each other for a moment, gaze into each others’ eyes, that their heartbeats will eventually sync up. He wonders how his compares to Kihyun’s.

Kihyun still looks beautiful in the dim, soft hues of their dorm lights. His edges are all soft and Minhyuk melts into them, getting caught in his orbit. They remain squished uncomfortably in the nook between the table and the couch, but comfortable in each other’s embrace. Minhyuk kisses Kihyun sweetly on the mouth more times than he can count, and it tastes good and warm and like home, like how Kihyun’s cooking makes him feel.

Minhyuk kisses Kihyun, and he kisses back. How peaceful it feels, to trade kisses when they’re the only ones awake, like they’re the only two people in the whole world.

“It’s late,” Kihyun whispers against Minhyuk’s lips, inevitably halting their kisses, but he’s saying it like he doesn’t want to stop. “Let’s go to bed?”

“Come sleep in mine,” Minhyuk hums. “Please?”

“Okay.”

They abandon the dirty dishes in the sink, leaving it to be a problem for their future selves.

Of the three of them that live in this dorm, Minhyuk prides himself in having the nicest room. The blues — of the comforter, of the curtains, of the whale plushie that’s looking at Kihyun when he enters the room — all blend together prettily and Kihyun feels like a child on a class trip to the aquarium, that naïve excitement bubbling up in his chest.

Kihyun, tired out of his mind, immediately crawls onto the bed. He doesn’t even bother pulling the comforter back, and instead just relaxes on top of it, entire body sighing against the soft fabric. It smells good. Minhyuk must’ve washed it today.

Minhyuk has to tug the comforter out from under Kihyun’s collapsed body, and laughs as he does it. And then, Minhyuk drapes it over the two of them, shuffling up close to Kihyun’s body, savouring the warmth that’s radiating from his body.

Kihyun looks up at Minhyuk with his crescent moon eyes, and Minhyuk pulls him close, and then closer and closer and closer, as much as physically possible. Snuggled together, he can feel the softness of Kihyun’s entire body against his own. He tangles his legs up with Kihyun’s, hooking one around Kihyun’s thigh, like he’s ivy growing over Kihyun’s body. Kihyun, who’s too tired to oppose, just clings back like a koala.

“I think it’s only fair that I warn you, I have to wake up first tomorrow,” Minhyuk breathes, hugging both arms around Kihyun, the soft weight of his hands anchoring on Kihyun’s back

“Why? You’re getting your makeup done first?”

“Mm-hm,” Minhyuk hums contently, now tracing meaningless shapes across the expanse of Kihyun’s back, fingers running along the ridges of Kihyun’s spine. “I lost at rock-paper-scissors. My alarm’s set for 5 a.m.”

Kihyun tries to laugh, but it comes out as a single exhale through his nose. His face buries in Minhyuk’s neck, like it fits perfectly there. He’s mumbling something in a hushed voice against Minhyuk’s skin, but it’s incoherent — he sounds so sleepy, too sleepy to separate his words. And he’d looked so sleepy, too, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut and hide his brilliant eyes behind them. His cheeks squish, as they’re pressed against Minhyuk’s pillow. Minhyuk’s gratitude is fizzling against his ribcage, that Kihyun was still willing to make dinner for the two of them, even after returning home so late. Kihyun’s hair splays out like a halo above his head, like an angel.

Minhyuk sighs, because as beautiful as he deems the Voyager Golden Record, he can’t imagine that the kiss recorded on it has half as much as the affection he has for Kihyun, or that the laugh recorded on it is half as lovely as Kihyun’s. He watches for a moment as Kihyun breathes in and out, steady and light, already asleep, before dissolving into a dream-like state himself.

“I love you so much,” Minhyuk whispers, and he’s sure of it.


End file.
